Page 76 of #Bossholes

Screw him.

He doesn’t get to berate me for something that was done, and he sure as hell doesn’t get to think I need help doing my job. I’ll shove this confirmation up his perfect ass if I have to.

So, I snatch up that piece of paper and head to Brantley’s office. I don’t bother knocking. He barges into my office, and it’s about time I return the favor. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. You get the idea.

He has his back to me, his arms crossed, and he’s staring out the window, his gaze sweeping over downtown Nashville. He doesn’t turn around as the door shuts behind me. “Did I forget something?”

Yeah, your personality.

“I think you should look at this.” My voice doesn’t waver, I don’t back down, and I’m sure as hell not going to beg for his attention. It doesn’t matter how good his arms look right now.

He hums, a smooth sound that rolls right through me. He turns around, but it’s slow, and he makes no attempt to walk closer. Instead, he takes a step back, leaning back against his desk. “Yeah?”

Does he expect me to come over there?

His head cocks to the side as he studies me, his jaw still clenched.

He does. He really freaking does. Well, I’ll show him.

I take that damn paper, wad it up into a tight ball, and chuck it right at his pompous ass face. Okay, to be fair, I was aiming for center mass, but it arches high in the air and hits him right in his square jaw.

Maybe that wasn’t the right move, but it’s too late. I can’t take it back now. What’s done is done, but at least this is something I can take responsibility for. I may even get high-fived on my way to the unemployment line.

He glances down at the paper and then back at me, his frown deepening, his eyes flashing with literal fire. Maybe not literal fire, but it’s close enough. “And what was that?”

“The fax confirmation from yesterday.”

He hums again, his tongue darting out to lick along his teeth. He looks like he’s about to devour me whole, and I’m not sure if I’ll like it.

In one swift movement, he pushes away from his desk and stalks toward me.

He’s pissed.

I probably shouldn’t have thrown something at his face if I didn’t want to provoke him.

Shit.

I’m in trouble.

After taking a deep breath, I step back and plaster myself against the door. Maybe if I make myself look small he’ll take mercy on me.

His footsteps are heavy, his dress shoes slapping violently against the floor. His eyes flash with something I can’t quite decipher, but there’s something wild in the way he looks at me. I’m more than in trouble. I’m probably fired.

He doesn’t stop a few feet away from me like I expected; he keeps walking, not stopping until he’s inches from me.

Instead of reading me the riot act or forcing me out of the office, his hand snakes around my neck and he pulls me against him, his lips crashing down on mine.

I’m frozen for a second before I grab handfuls of his vest and open up beneath him.

His tongue plunges into my mouth with a groan, my legs tremble, and I tighten my grip on his clothes to keep from crumpling to the floor.

His kiss is unyielding. Ruthless. Unforgiving.

So undeniably savage.

It’s so raw, so primal, so fucking Brantley. I knew he wouldn’t be gentle, wouldn’t treat me like I’m some delicate flower to be treasured, and I love it. I want more. I need it.

I don’t care if we’re in the office. I don’t care if this is unprofessional.

---